Beatriz de Aragon
by Ovelia
Summary: Based on Medieval Total War, this is the story of an Aragonese Princess from her marriage to the French heir, through her turbulent life.
1. Chapter 1

A slight breeze whipped through the royal apartments, caressing the face of Princess Beatriz, and whipping her black hair about her. The wind was no consolation to a marriage of unhappiness, however, although Aragonese pride would not allow her to show it.

Yes, Beatriz was a Princess of Aragon, and wed to the Dauphine of France. But now, only a short four months after her wedding, she was with child and awaiting an escort to take her back to her homeland, with the blessing of her father-in-law, Phillipe of France.

Her moment of blissfulness was interrupted by her dear friend, Isabel; an Aragonese woman she'd known since her childhood. The soft voice spoke up, and Beatriz's heart leapt at the words, "The escort is ready, Madame."

Beatriz had never felt so content – bearing a French heir, returning to her homeland. Even on the long ride – she was five months pregnant upon her arrival – she was content.

The heralds announced her arrival and she could hear her people – her father's people – cheering her carriage. She felt warm and loved, whereas in France she felt tolerated. What a difference it made!

"The people love you, Madame!" Isabel said in French. A wave of sadness overwhelmed Beatriz – they were more French than Aragonese now.

"Yes, I certainly believe they do. But we will only stay a short time. Their joy will be short-lived." Beatriz sighed and cast her eyes downward. There was more reason than one that it would be a short-lived joy. Spies had reported that Spain was eager to take her beloved Aragon, and there was nothing she could do. Rather, there was nothing her husband would do.

When she saw her mother, now in her fifties, dignified and queenly, Beatriz could not conceal her happiness. She embraced her mother in front of the whole court, and when she finally pulled back, there were so many more to hug. She had only one sister remaining at court, with the other three married to nobility, and so she knelt to her eleven year old sister and embraced her. Blue eyes, dark hair, and tanned skin; yes, they were much more alike than their other siblings.

¿"es verdad, hermana? Es usted con el niño?" Maria, her sister, asked. Beatriz could not contain her smile.

"Yes, I am with child."

¡"Maria! Pregunte a su hermana otra vez en francés." Her mother was scolding the child for not asking in Beatriz's language, French. It saddened Beatriz to hear that her mother no longer considered her one of the royal family.

"soeur est vérité ? Vous êtes avec l'enfant?" her sister repeated.

"Oui, et laissez-nous prient que l'enfant est un mâle." That was true enough, sadly. Beatriz would be happy with a girl, but the French needed a male heir. Though, as she was only eighteen, and her husband twenty-one, they would have many years to conceive many children; unfortunately.

"My dear daughter," her mother started. "I am sorry your father and brother cannot be here to receive you, for they are at the frontlines." Her mother's voice was sorrowful, and her eyes were a black void.

"The frontlines?" Beatriz found herself startled, for she had not expected war to come so soon! Soon news would reach the French and they would force her to return to safety, in French lands. So soon!

"Yes, my daughter. Spain has entered into an alliance with The Holy Roman Empire, with the marriage of their Princess Isabel to Prince Ludwig. Your father feared this moment and rode out with the army to fight them himself. Your brother Alfonso insisted on accompanying him. They should have fought the battle by now. We only await the news."

Beatriz felt weak at the thought of it. "Our alliance – your alliance – with the French; what of it? Surely my husband and his father would not ignore the cry of their own relatives?"

Her mother Isabella frowned and told Maria to retire, along with the other members of the court. Now just she and her mother stood in the throne room, and when all were gone, her mother sank to her throne and sighed. "Your husband has forgotten his own wife's family. He has not responded to our two emissaries, and we're reduced to little more than begging for help." Oh, the shame her father-in-law had wrought on her family! Beatriz shook with fury, whilst her mother continued. "We thought if you were there you may convince them to help, but they had already sent you…"

They had fooled her! She sank to the ground in her robes and wept. Her mother commanded her in a strong voice, to "Rise and be a true Princess, lest you shame yourself upon the ground!" And Beatriz did just that. "My daughter, rest now; I will awake you if we receive news."

But no news came, until it came in a horrible form. The Aragonese army arrived with its King, and the Spanish army was, as described by the King himself, "within distance of reaching out to strangle us all". By then, Beatriz was nine months along and expected to go to childbed at any moment. She could not leave the country for fear of being intercepted by the Spanish army that now besieged them.

"That roused the French into coming," Isabel, her friend, laughed hatefully. She had become bitter during their siege, and often resorted to insulting the King of France and his son, Beatriz's husband. "Their heir is about to be delivered into Spanish hands, literally!"

Beatriz was in childbed and even now hearing of all the troubles. Jesu, would they not cease their criticisms? Her head pressed against the pillow and she screamed loudly, pulling at the sheets with her hands.

Finally, the child was delivered and she heard her cry. Yes, her cry. She could tell that the child was a Princess, and she cared not. Her child lived! They handed her to the future Queen of France, and she smiled. The child had her blue eyes and black hair, and the babe's complexion was crème like her father's.

For one moment, all was peaceful and quiet. Then the baby wailed, and it served as a subtle reminder that, no matter what joy occurs, the world moves on.

"Beatrix Isabella, Princess of France. Beatrix for myself, and her grandmother, who is also Beatrix." It had taken her twenty-two days to name her daughter, when it had become apparent that the child would live and that she would need to be christened as soon as possible, in case the Spanish should storm the castle.

The christening was not lavish, for Beatriz had opposed such a thing; "If the people are starving," she had said, "we do not need to spend wildly on a babe that cares not if it is lavish."

The christening was short, and the guests – the little nobility left, plus a few churchmen – began to disperse. Soon, Beatriz was left alone, to appreciate the silence and the freedom that came with the independence. She stayed there, trying to take in the chapel, to preserve this place in her mind. Some time later, she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Your Highness, Princess Beatrix." French words! She whirled to see a tall man, wearing too many jewels. "I came from your father-in-law; you and your infant must leave Barcelona immediately."

Beatriz was taken aback. She summoned up the French words and began to speak, "At least allow me to go to my family, to bid them goodbye. It will be the last time I see them." It was then that she realized it was true, that they were under siege and would most likely be killed. For her daughter, she had to leave.

"Your Highness, I would much like to allow you that moment, but time is scarce. The boat awaits, but when the Spanish Armada sees it attempting to leave they will seize it. I beg you to come."

Beatriz felt her ire rising, "I will be ready soon, and if I must forfeit the family Our Lord has given me, I will at least take my royal attendants. Send for my child, and my maiden Isabel, for they are together."

Without giving him a chance to protest, Beatriz left the chapel, and made her way to her chambers. But when she entered, she found her sister Maria waiting, with Beatrix and Isabel. "Your Highness, I saw the French emissary and avoided him. But I found Maria here, already."

Maria looked at her guiltily, and then burst into a series of wails and sobs. "I heard father saying that he plans to open the gates for the Spanish, for they have our sister's captive!"

News had reached them that the royals had been captured at their manors, but they had been assumed killed. In fact, spies had reported that what looked to be graves were buried outside Barcelona, and that they expected the bodies to be emptied there. It seemed implausible that the women were still alive.

"Can our father not see past this ploy? Oh, than it is true, we must leave for France!" Beatriz was dismayed and the crying of Maria was not alleviating her stress. She sent Isabel to fetch her ladies-in-waiting and the wet nurse. She was then to retrieve the French emissary and bring him to her chambers.

Beatrix was being held by Maria, and whilst they were distracted, Beatriz sat down at her personal space and began to write. She had always been skilled in writing and speech.

_My loving and loved family,_

_It is with great dismay that I flee without even a goodbye. The French arrived to spirit me away by boat (much as they did when they came to fetch me to wed the Prince). I take Maria, your other most loving daughter, to safety, where she will be treated as a true royal, and not as a prisoner. _

_I will beseech my family in France to liberate you, as they should have done before I arrived here six months ago. I can only send my love and faith to you, and pray to God that you may be delivered safely from Spanish hands. _

_Your loving daughter, _

_Beatriz of Aragon_

It was done. She called in another servant, one that she thought she could trust, and sent him with detailed instructions, that he would not deliver it until the last possible moment, into the hands of whatever royal was available, preferably the King or Queen. Then he was gone.

Soon, Isabel and the other four ladies – Marie, Agnes, Antoinette, and Joan – arrived, along with the wet nurse. The emissary was behind them, and when the almost all of her possessions were packed and ready, the party, including her sister Maria, set out for the designed location, which was along the coast. They could see the Spanish campfires and it sent a shiver through all of them.

Soon, however, after they all were aboard, the boat set out. When they saw the coast of France, the party rejoiced. Although it was unknown to them at the time, at that moment the Royal Family of Aragon was being hanged, down to the last grandchild, who was only five.


	2. The Coronation

The Coronation

Once the boat hit shore in Toulouse, Beatriz and her party found a French entourage numbering in the fifties waiting for them. There was everyone from archers to musicians, and even among them she saw her husband, the Crown Prince. He stood out, tall and dark haired, with fierce green eyes. No one denied he was a handsome man, but no one spoke of his personality, either; he was cold-hearted and calculative. He showed no compassion.

The party began to disembark, awkwardly. At the sight of the infant, the party cheered loudly and wildly. "The Prince of France!" they were crying, ecstatically. Beatriz faltered, but resumed smiling and waving.

But when her husband approached her and dipped his head, she knew something was wrong. Then he spoke the words, "Your Grace." Her family was dead, and she was Queen of Aragon. So simple, two words and a gesture that told her; she heard her sister began to wail.

The land around them was rocky and green, beautiful but hard to traverse. Storm clouds were forming above, and a slight drizzle began. "Your Grace," her husband started again, "may I see my son?"

"My lord," she began hesitantly, "we have a fair daughter." His face dropped, and he nodded. "What is her name?" But now his voice was lifeless, he did not care either way.

"Beatrix Isabella. Beatrix for your mother, my lord, and Isabella for the purpose of giving her her own name." He bowed slightly again and turned, calling for horses and a carriage. He beckoned for Beatriz to enter, and she did. He left and did not return to her on the whole trip. Only when they arrived in Paris did he see fit to fetch her.

The whole thought of a coronation tortured Beatriz; it meant finally accepting her whole family was dead. But her father in law insisted that she be anointed, as a blow to the Spaniards. At first she thought of abdication, in favor of her sister, but then decided it was God that made her Queen, and she would remain in that station. It also gave her power in France.

"It gives you no power, only restrictions, Madame." Isabel was the only one she could trust to give her honesty in France. The rest were flatterers and poets and those seeking a higher position. "You're Queen of a country you cannot even visit; you're now pressured to provide an heir for two countries, instead of one. But if you abdicate, on the other hand, you put a burden on a girl of twelve years that has just lost all she's ever known."

Maria, or Marie as she was to be known in France, was not handling the transition well. She was ill constantly and frail, and already the King of France was trying to arrange a royal marriage for she and Beatrix Isabella. The King of Spain had insisted on Marie going to Spain to marry their Crown Prince, but Beatriz intervened and quickly ended that match.

"Then I am to rule a country I cannot even visit, and try to provide an heir even though my husband will not touch me." It wasn't that she minded that part, but it shamed her to know he had impregnated his mistress while she had taken leave. But, she had only given birth to a girl as well. It served him right.

"Than France will never get its heir."

The coronation went as planned, as the carriage took them from the castle to the cathedral where she would be crowned. The Spanish ambassador had argued that, since it had no taken place on Aragonese soil, it was invalid. He then went on to say that Alfonso of Castile had already crowned himself King of Spain, Aragon, and Navarre. He argued everything, including that if Maria wed the King of Spain, that the crowns would be lawfully united, and that the Aragonese would achieve more power than they had initially. Beatriz refused her hand in marriage to the Spaniards but did give the ambassador a position of importance at the coronation.

Now the procession turned to the cathedral and stopped. Beatriz exited in all her robes and could hear the cries of the people, "Désirent ardemment la Reine de phase Beatrix!" People seemed genuinely enthusiastic, and it delighted her.

Now she entered the cathedral and it became oddly quiet as the doors shut behind her. She marched down the aisle, as she had done in marriage three years ago. Now she was twenty, with a two year old Princess for a daughter, and entirely a woman. Her robes did not conceal the bump of her stomach, where another child grew.

She sat on her throne, and she was crowned; Beatriz, Queen of Aragon, Princess of France.


	3. The Children of a Prince

The Children of a Prince

It was a cold night when the Queen of Aragon was taken to the confinement chamber, screaming with the pains of childbirth. The midwives were panicking, "The child will not be delivered."

"The child is stuck!"

"By God, pull I say!"

"A Prince!"

It was then the Queen passed out from exhaustion, but not before a smile crept upon her lips. Hours later when she awoke, she was weak but yearning for her son. "My son," she sighed. "I wish to see his face."

They brought him to her, swaddled in blankets, his eyes green and his skin dark. His dark colored hair brought out his father's eyes, and Beatriz felt love she had not felt since the birth of Beatrix two years earlier. The baby yawned and the mother sighed content. "Does my lord know?" she asked.

"No, Your Grace, he is out hunting and said he was not expecting to return this week." It was her friend Isabel, ever vigilant. "I suppose he believes the Prince means nothing." Her grimace faded though, and she smiled. "What is his name?"

"Alfonso Louis, for his grandfather," it had come to her in an instant that name. "He will be the first French Alfonso!"

They laughed, but it hurt Beatriz. "Pray for me Isabel. Some mothers do not survive the birthing, and I feel much weaker than I did with Beatrix. Take the babe."

News of the birth spread quickly throughout Europe. The King of Sicily was made a godparent, as was the King of England, in hopes of strengthening the alliance with the two. Surprisingly enough to the whole court, the King of England also offered his son, the Crown Prince of England, to Beatrix.

"My daughter, the Queen of England; I can see her in that position, if not for her supreme pride in her French and Aragonese heritage." Beatriz was sewing, it having been three months after her delivery of Prince Louis Alfonso. Isabel and her ladies, Antoinette and Joan were at her side.

"Yes, your daughter would make a suitable wife to the Prince. At even her young age, she's as fiery as he's reputed to be." This was Joan's soft voice. Everything about her, actually, was soft. Her hair seemed soft and her blue eyes, too.

"She shall have to put that past her if she ever wants to be a wife!" Antoinette exclaimed in her deep voice. She was four years older than Beatriz and was the cousin of Joan; her niece by her brother was also born on the same day as Beatrix, so they were companions.

Isabel laughed and looked at Antoinette bewilderedly. "Lady Antoinette, I do believe you should follow your own advice. No man would take such a woman as you – brash, impulsive, and disobedient. In fact, I daresay they would turn and run from you. You should have been born a man."

Antoinette looked smug at this, and laughed. Soon the chamber was silent again and they sewed, until the Prince her husband entered swiftly. The ladies quickly rose and bowed but Beatriz, as a monarch, remained where she was. "You are dismissed," he said to the ladies, and they strode from the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Beatriz did not even open her mouth to acknowledge him. The tension in the air was practically visible, and soon her husband spoke. "Beatrix is to be sent to live in London soon, or we will lose their Crown Prince's hand in marriage."

No formalities, nor comforting words. Just the facts straight from his mouth, that her three year old daughter would soon be sent away, even further than a country home in France. "How soon?" was all she could ask. She felt herself grow weak and she wanted to vomit, or to wake up from an awful dream.

"Once her education is complete," at these words his eyes began to gleam. Ever since the birth of their son he had began to grow fonder of their daughter, and given her the best tutor he could find – for a Princess. Their son would be given much more of an education, undoubtedly. "Though her first words were French, her governess, an Englishwoman, has said that she can speak a multitude of English words with a light accent. She shall be a fitting ambassador to England."

Yes, of course. Political reasons for the marriage – influence French and English relations and be given a chance to reinforce Salic law that stated the succession could not continue through female descendants of the King. Aragon had followed that law, but given Aragon was Castile controlled, Beatriz used it to her advantage to revoke the law in her native land.

"I am sure she shall bring great French influence to the English court. Her sister, your daughter Therese, shall be her Maid of Honor." The words had come to her instantly, out of pity and anger. The child was emotionally neglected but her mother and she were given great luxuries because of their connections. Without the child much money could be saved and the mistress would be gone. The child was sweet too, and loved Beatrix very much.

The Prince nodded his head, caring not if his illegitimate daughter was buried alive. He fathered her a year before his marriage to Beatriz, and had discarded her as soon as the marriage took place. Then he spoke again, "I will send my other daughter Marie, the one born shortly before Beatrix, as well. I will be free of all my daughters." He laughed joyfully, and Beatriz suddenly felt very alone.


End file.
